


Yer So Bad

by Taybay14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Drug Dealer Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:37:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evangeline74 asked me to write a ficlet based on the song "Yer So Bad" by Tom Petty. Hopefully everyone, including Evangeline74, enjoys it (:</p><p>Also, after writing it I kind of decided I'm in love with the storyline (ooops). So if I get enough interest (kudos, comments, etc.) I'd be willing to extend it into a longer fic, using this as a chapter somewhere in the middle. Let me know what you all think!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yer So Bad

Castiel sits on the top step of the metal bleachers, staring out at the football field. The crisp fall air bites at his cheeks, making him burrow down further into his scarf. He glances at his watch again. 4:09 pm. He’s nine minutes late. Castiel looks around, trying not to panic. Dean’s never late. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder, biting his bottom lip. He’s been meeting the school’s notorious bad boy in this spot every Friday for the last two months. Dean sells him a little bag of Xanax, usually says something dirty, and walks away with a wink. But always at 4 pm. 

Just as he’s about to get up and leave he sees someone out of the corner of his eye, sauntering towards him in a familiar way. Castiel tries to look away but he can’t. There’s no way he has a crush on a drug dealer. Especially not one who enjoys banging half the school. By the time Dean makes his way towards him, Castiel has the butterflies in his stomach under control. 

“The usual?” Dean asks, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. It’s not lit yet. Castiel told him the third time they met that his sister picked up on the smell. Thankfully Dean didn’t ask for any more information, instead he always lights it after walking away. Dean’s good at that, not asking questions. He doesn’t ask why Castiel is usually covered in bruises, or why he always has crisp new fifty dollar bills when he goes to pay. Dean doesn’t need to know that his parents are dead, or that his sister is his guardian, or how terrible she is at it. He doesn’t need to know about the rich guys that are a constant loop in his sister’s house, either sober enough to beat the shit out of Castiel or wasted enough to not care that Castiel is swiping money from their wallets. 

“Yes please.” Dean holds out the baggie, dangling it in the air. Castiel goes to snatch it, hating that Dean is so obvious about the whole thing. Dean pulls back, laughing a little. This is new, and it makes Castiel’s heartbeat pick up.

“Not so fast, Cas.” Dean raises an eyebrow, eyeing the faint yellow bruises on Castiel’s neck. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” Castiel says defensively. He wants to run away, this whole thing making his skin itch. But what Dean doesn’t know is the pills aren’t to get high. They’re for an actual anxiety disorder. His sister just doesn’t care enough to bring him to the doctor, leaving him to get it illegally. 

“Don’t lie, or you don’t get em.”

“Whatever. I’ll just get high some other way.” Castiel grips the strap of his backpack tightly, pushing past Dean. He starts descending the bleachers, his face bright red. 

“You aren’t using them to get high.” Dean calls out. Castiel freezes, staring out at the fifty yard line. He’s trying not to cry. This is the last person who should know anything about his damn life. Even if Castiel has been falling for him the past few months, there’s no way he’s telling him any of his secrets. “You have panic attacks. I saw you, on Monday. When that asshole quarterback walked by and slammed his fist into the locker next to you. He just meant to scare you a little, but you freaked. I’ve seen it before, my brother gets them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who’s hurting you?” Dean asks quietly. Castiel didn’t even hear him walk down the bleachers, but now he’s standing with his stomach against Castiel’s back. He grabs the backpack from Castiel’s shaking hand and places it gently on the metal step. He inches closer, his chin resting on Castiel’s shoulder. “You can trust me.” He whispers. 

Castiel’s whole body is shaking, but surprisingly is anxiety isn’t swelling up in his chest. “You’re bad.” Castiel says quietly, closing his eyes. Dean sighs. 

“I’m not so bad.” Dean brings a finger along Castiel’s arm, not liking how thin his sweater is. The kid must be freezing. He pockets the cigarette in his other hand so he can wrap his arms around him. Castiel gasps but doesn’t protest. He opens his eyes, staring at the faded leather of Dean’s jacket. He thinks about the tattoos he knows are underneath it. About the fights he’s gotten into with those hands. Or the boys and girls he’s undressed with those fingers. 

“You are. You’re so bad, you can’t-” Castiel’s sentence gets cut off by Dean turning him around to face him. He cups Castiel’s cheek but the boy pulls away. Dean’s arms drop and he steps back a little, giving him space. 

“I can’t what?” Dean asks, his voice smooth. 

“Just give me the pills or leave me alone.” Castiel says through gritted teeth. He stuffs the fifty dollar bill into one of Dean’s leather jacket’s pockets. 

“I can’t what, Castiel?” Dean asks again, taking a step closer to him. They’re practically nose to nose, and the panic is starting to form now. Castiel breathes heavily. 

“Just give me the pills.”

“I can’t what, Cas?”

“You can’t save me!”

“Watch me.” Dean says. He slams his lips against Castiel’s, tangling his fingers in Castiel’s messy black hair. Castiel hums softly, letting Dean take over. After about a minute Dean pulls away, letting Castiel stand there breathless. “I’m gonna be the best thing you ever had in this mad world, Castiel Novak.”

He shoves the bag of pills into Castiel’s hand, giving him a wink. He pulls the cigarette back out, along with a lighter. As he walks away he lights it, taking a long drag. When he looks over his shoulder, Castiel is still standing there, stunned. Dean laughs lightly. “See ya Friday, Cas.” He yells, lifting a hand in the air and holding up two fingers in a little wave. 

Once he’s around the corner and out of sight Castiel lifts his fingers to his lips, touching them. He can’t help but smile, shaking his head. “You’re so bad.” He whispers. He can’t wait until Friday.


End file.
